


What Dreams Don’t Come

by vega_voices



Series: The Tears of the Prophets [2]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: F/M, Gen, Occupation of Bajor, The Cardassian Occupation of Bajor, the resistance, the shakaar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2021-02-24 15:54:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21760540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vega_voices/pseuds/vega_voices
Summary: “You’ve got a promise to keep,” he reminded her. “You have to tell me what you want to do with your life. I’ll see you when we’re free.”
Relationships: Bareil Antos/Kira Nerys, Shakaar Edon/Original character
Series: The Tears of the Prophets [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1568326
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	What Dreams Don’t Come

**Title:** What Dreams Don’t Come  
**Author:** vegawriters  
**Fandom:** Star Trek: DS9  
**Series:** The Tears of the Prophets  
**Pairing:** Kira Nerys/Bareil Antos  
**Rating:** Teen  
**Timeframe:** Pre-Canon (DS9), set during the Occupation of Bajor; this also runs at the same time and connects to the pre-canon events of **[Imzadi](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1404169)**. The two stories will overlap, though you don’t need to read both to understand what is happening in either.  
**A/N:** When I was a wee 18 year old, I wrote a fic called From Here to Eternity. It’s been found by fabulous people on the internet and wow, I’m sorry it was. ;) Here you have the beginnings of my reworking, 22 years later, something better, something stronger, something far less problematic. What can I say? At 18, we all write stuff we regret later.  
**Disclaimer:** Trust me, if I made money writing fic, I wouldn’t have the rejection issues I have. But until the powers that be hire me to write novels, I’ll just be over here, writing fic and not making any money from it.

**Summary:** _“You’ve got a promise to keep,” he reminded her. “You have to tell me what you want to do with your life. I’ll see you when we’re free.”_

**Bajor, 2360  
Dakurh Province**

Cold winds raced down through the canyon, wrapping icy tendrils around the girl who sat on the edge of a small outcropping, phaser rifle in her cracked hands. She was what some might consider, small for her age. Like all Bajorans, she was too thin to be healthy, a lifetime of malnourishment and slow poisoning from the now-toxic farmland of her planet gracing her with a gaunt, skeletal structure. In the moonlight, she was ghostly pale, her red hair dark against dry, rough cheek. The woven blanket around her shoulders did little to shield her from the encroaching cold of winter, but it was all the cell could spare for those keeping watch.

Twenty lengths away, the canyon gave way to a craggly path that seemed to end at the rock wall. Even the most advanced scanning technology could not see past the mineral deposits in the hills or the ghost images projected by bots meant to confuse the hunters, so while scanners showed some evidence of life in the brutal canyon, there was no way to pinpoint the source. Behind the wall, accessed by the slimmest of crevices, the Shakaar Resistance Cell had made camp for the cold season. The watch was almost unnecessary, but they all knew better than to trust that some Cardassian bastard wouldn’t follow them at just the wrong moment. So, there Kira Nerys sat, her hyper-focused stare penetrating the moon-shadows below. Nothing would get by her.

Still, she couldn’t help but wish for the warmth of the fire and something hot to drink. Lupaza had found some late-blooming jumja berries and after they’d split the bounty among the cell members, she’d stripped the bush of the best leaves and stewed a strong, flavorful tea that was keeping longer than anyone expected. Lupaza was good with food like that. Her great-grandmother had owned a pastry shop, before the Cardassians came. Right in the heart of the center of the Capital City. Lupaza said once that Lerin’s shop was the first place the Cardassians stopped on the day they invaded. The story was they walked in, asked for three jumja rolls, and after they ate them, instead of paying, they gunned Lerin down and dragged her lifeless body into the middle of the street.

Movement to her left caught her attention and Kira spun, staying low, aiming her rifle at the shadow. It was too late in the night for the animals of the canyon to wander, and too early for her replacement to arrive. Standing on the path were two figures and even in the near-blackness, Kira could tell they weren’t armed. She could see the tattered rags that hung around their wobbling bodies. “Come into the light,” she hissed. “Forward three paces.”

Shadow gave way to moonlight, revealing two boys barely older than herself. They leaned on each other for support and Kira wondered how they could have come so far down the path without attracting her attention. She stood and approached, keeping her phaser at the ready. It wouldn’t be the first time the Cardassians had lured someone into a trap by dangling refugees before them.

Kira let out a low whistle, one that sounded like a bird to the untrained ear, but would attract the second watcher at the mouth of the crevice. It took only heartbeats for another footfall to be heard on the path and as Furel came to her side, one of the refugee boys collapsed to his knees. Furel moved forward, his own phaser still primed.

“You’re resistance!” the slightly stronger of the boys croaked. “We’re alone. Please, help us. We’re looking for Prylar Quen.”

There was no way in the Valley of the Wraiths they would let these two strangers see the camp, even if they did know the Prylar’s name. Still, they clearly needed help. Kira watched Furel wrestle with the situation, letting the more experienced fighter take the lead. She was not the decision maker; she was good at pointing and shooting.

“Nerys, go fetch Edon.” He looked at the taller of the boys. “What’s your name, son?”

“Antos,” he croaked out. “Bareil Antos. We’re here from the Talar Valley. They burned the temple.”

It was then that Kira noticed the rags were more than her own barely pieced together clothes but the robes of clerical novices. And only after she noted that, did it sink in that they’d burned the temple in Talar. “The Cardassians promised they’d leave the --”

“The deal is that we can’t house resistance,” the smaller boy cut in, his tone tight and cautious. Clearly, he wasn’t as comfortable with this arrangement as Antos.

“None of that matters,” Furel said quickly. “Not right now. We need to get you off the road. Nerys, go tell Shakaar! We need to get these two to the farmhouse.”

There wasn’t a farmhouse anywhere. The language was specific, referring to a safe cave where those fleeing could hide, a place the Cardassians hadn’t discovered yet. The one in this canyon was kept by an offworlder, a telepath named Caldra, who had helped to get countless resisters to safety. Kira still wasn’t sure how she felt about it all - most of those helping Bajorans to leave weren’t Bajoran. It felt … strange. Still, there was no place that was truly safe for Bajorans. Nowhere except for Betazed. How benevolent of the telepaths. But Kira didn’t have time for her internal debate about offworlders. Especially since Caldra never questioned the need to help, she just did it, and never once told people how to do it. Instead, she ran for the crevice, sliding through and right into Shakaar, who had the camp primed and ready to attack. He grabbed her arm, already pulling her behind him.

“There’s two Bajoran kids out on the road and they’re alone and Furel needs your help to get them to the farmhouse. They’re asking for Quen. They’re from Talar. They burned the temple.”

Shakaar’s curse turned all their heads. “Quen!” He hollered. The prylar ran over, rifle at the ready. “You’ve got incoming.” He raised his fist to call off the hounds of resistance. “Takel, you take over for Nerys. Lead us out.”

She nodded and slipped back out the way she’d come, her phaser rifle still ready to take down Cardassian shadows. The boys were both on their feet again, each bearing the other’s weight, and she stared at them, seeing Phol and Rheon in them.

She missed her brothers.

The taller boy met her eyes. He was older than she was, and in the moonlight, his earring held the weight of age. It was older and bigger than any she’d even seen, even her father’s. “You’ll be safe,” she said. “We’re taking you somewhere safe.”

“Thank you,” he whispered.

Shakaar and Quen came up behind her. “Can you boys walk?” the prylar asked, his tone gentle.

“Enough.” The second one said.

“Then let’s go,” Shakaar beckoned. “We’ve got to get there before moonset. We can’t use palm lights right now, the Cardassians are too close.”

“Go now,” Furel hissed. “Takel and I have the watch.”

Kira took the rear, keeping an ear for anything out of the ordinary, but the night remained silent. They walked slowly, with Shakaar and Quen needing to support their charges more than anyone would have liked, but the longer they were together the more it became clear how injured the boys were. Caldra would be busy tonight.

After an hour of stopping, starting, and almost sliding down the slope when a patch of loose dirt gave way, the group arrived at the farmhouse. Light was starting to glow beyond the northern mountains, which meant they wouldn’t be getting back to camp for a while. Cardassians always prowled hardest at dawn and dusk.

Shakaar tapped on the rock face with his rifle. A pattern just for him, that would be changed when they left today. Nerys held her breath, her own weapon primed to fire, waiting for shadows to move. Instead, twenty heartbeats later, a woman emerged from the opposite side of the slot canyon.

Caldra was small, thin, and her long black hair was pulled over her shoulder in a loose braid and covered with a gray headscarf. She had come to Bajor on a humanitarian mission and joined the resistance after her tour of duty was over. She was one of the few offworlders that Nerys trusted, and even then, she questioned how deep Caldra’s loyalty ran. In the end, wasn’t it always about your own people?

“Get inside,” Caldra hissed. “Quickly.” The group of resisters obeyed, ducking behind the rockface. Behind the rock, a narrow crevice wound before them, and they walked, bending around breaks in the canyon before coming to a small cavern where Caldra made her home. Against one wall, there was a bed and a small chest for food. Against the other were stacks of bedding and medical supplies. Fresh water came from a small crack in the cave floor. It was damp and cool, but they were safe.

“The Cardassians upped their patrols down here,” Caldra said when they could finally speak again. “You could have been seen.”

“We needed to get these boys to safety, and you’re a better bet than we are,” Shakaar replied. He sighed, releasing the tension they’d all been carrying since they began the decent from their camp, and pulled Caldra to him for a tight hug and quick kiss. Their relationship was no secret to the resistance cell, but that didn’t mean that Nerys was really comfortable seeing her leader with an offworlder. But the moment didn’t last long. There was work to do.

“Nerys, Edon, there’s supplies for your team if you want to load those up. Quen, get these boys some food and let’s look at their wounds.” She sighed and turned her attention to the newest refugees. “My name is Caldra Troi. You can trust me.”

The smaller of the boys reeled back, the disgust on his face. “You’re an offworlder!”

“She’s with us,” Shakaar admonished as he took inventory of the supplies. “And you don’t have a lot of options right now.”

“It’s okay, Jenal,” she heard Antos say. “They brought us Quen. We’re here. We’re safe.”

“And,” the cleric said, “you need to sit and let me look at those burns.”

Nerys tuned out the conversation around her, focused on transferring the provisions into easy to carry packs. They weren’t going anywhere for a few hours, and honestly, she was looking forward to a nap.

***

She woke to silence. Quickly, Nerys sat up, reaching for her rifle, but all she saw was Edon and Caldra asleep on her cot, Quen and Jenal both asleep on mats, and Antos kneeling in meditation. She knew Caldra had traps set, it was how she could live here alone, but sleeping without someone on watch was unsettling. She rose, quietly, and went to listen at the entrance to the cavern. Just in case.

“I offered to keep watch,” a low voice said, startling her. Nerys turned to see Antos looking at her, his expression calm. His dark brown eyes met her own and she let the tension out of her shoulders as she came to sit on the mat next to him. “I wasn’t going to sleep anyway.”

“I’m sorry about the temple,” Nerys offered.

“So am I.” His expression was somber. “You’d think of all that we lost, all the treasures, I wouldn’t miss my garden so much, but I do. That’s what I miss.”

“My father has a garden,” Nerys said. “He’s got this tiny house in a village not far from here. In the shade of this massive tree. The ground is terrible, but he’s out there every day, trying to grow things. Trying to survive in this mess.”

“Is it just the two of you?” Antos asked, his voice carrying the gentle tone that Quen used so often. She didn’t find it nearly as irritating as Quen’s.

“It didn’t used to be,” she replied, staring at a point somewhere between the bedrolls and the crates of food. “My mother died when I was little. My brothers … one died a few years ago. The other got dragged off to the mines. I lost track of him.”

“My parents both died when I was younger. It’s how I ended up in the temple, actually. Under the care of the gardner. That’s … what I’d expected to be doing. Imagine my surprise when the Prophets called me to deeper service.”

“No siblings?”

“I’ve an older sister. She was …” he sighed and everything in Antos’ body changed. “The Cardassians took her when she was only sixteen to be one of their comfort women. They promised my father he could even go home to our valley, that we’d have extra food and rations.”

Nerys spat on the ground. “No family has ever received those promised rations.”

“Ours certainly didn’t. My sister, she’s still in service,” his tone turned even darker at the word. “She even …” he coughed. “She has a daughter, a child of the man she’s currently assigned to. Her name is Cria.”

Nerys coughed. “How do you know this?”

“She was part of a resistance cell when she was taken and she still feeds information to them.”

“I heard that when the hybrids are born, the Cardassians sell them offworld to the Orions.”

Antos shrugged. “I’ve heard it too. Mostly, though, they end up in the orphanages or in the temples. Some get forced on or adopted out to Bajoran families.” He was silent for a long time. “The aren’t allowed on Cardassia. The official policy is that they don’t exist.”

Silence settled and Nerys stared at her rifle, her cracked hands, at the water on the floor of the cavern. Anywhere but at the man next to her. “Your sister told you to find Prylar Quen,” she finally said. “She’s our contact over in Singha.” Antos nodded slowly. “Your sister is a hero,” she said quietly. “We couldn’t have liberated that camp without her.”

“You were there?”

Nerys nodded, slowly. Even now, two years later, the memories of what she saw there haunted her. “They’re trying to retake it, but we won’t let them.”

“Thank you for being there.”

She shivered and pressed her fingers to her eyes, trying to release the tension, wanting to ask what cell he was with. She also knew better than to dig too much. It could put all of them in more danger.

“I just want them to leave,” she finally said. “I want a free Bajor. I’m tired of fighting.”

“We’re both too young to already be tired of fighting.”

That made her smile. He blushed, just slightly, and cleared his throat. Nerys chuckled. “How are the burns?”

“They will heal,” Antos said.

“Where will you go?” she asked. “Now that your temple is gone.”

He shrugged. “Where Caldra and Quen tell us it is safe. I’m not leaving the planet, though. I’ve a role to play here.” There was a pause and he shifted on the mat. “What would you be doing? If you weren’t sitting here, with a rifle on your lap?”

Nerys could only shrug. “Dreams like that aren’t worth it,” she said, getting up. “Because unless the Cardassians leave, they won’t come true.” She wanted to stalk away, but there was nowhere to go that was safe, so she stared at the pile of supplies. Behind her, she could feel Antos come up to her. “It’s stupid,” she murmured.

“Why?”

“Because it is.”

“What would you be doing?”

She wiped a tear away. “I don’t know,” she said, feeling dumb. “I can’t think that far ahead because chances are, I’ll be dead tomorrow.” There was a weight on her shoulders and she jumped. Antos pulled his hands back, and she could feel the apology in his body language. It wasn’t his fault. How was he to know the last time someone had touched her like that, she’d ended up fighting off two Cardassian soldiers who wanted to do more than just kill her. “But I’ll make you a deal,” she said, turning to look at him. “If we get out of this alive, I’ll come up with something to do with my life.”

He smiled and nodded. “I’ll take that deal.”

There was movement behind them and Nerys turned to see Caldra rising from her cot. “Prylar,” she said to Antos. “You know how to use a rifle?” He nodded. Nerys blinked. He seemed far too peaceful for that.

“Good. You, me, your friend, and Quen, we’re heading out after duskfall. There’s another stop three days away and we’ll get you there and they’ll get you safely to a temple.”

“Thank you,” Antos said. “For risking your life for ours.”

Caldra only shook her head. “The Four Deities teach us that all life in the universe is sacred and I can’t sit here, watching your people’s lives be desecrated.”

“I think,” Antos said with a smile, “that our Prophets and your Deities would get along very well.”

“I’ve always thought so,” Caldra returned the smile. “Go on, finish packing up. I’m going to say goodbye to this lug over here.” She nodded to Shakaar, who was also getting this things together.

Kira turned to Bareil, suddenly unsure of how to say goodbye. He wasn’t the first straggler through the woods she’d helped to save, but she didn’t want him to go. “Take care of yourself,” she said, stumbling over the emotion in her voice.

“You’ve got a promise to keep,” he reminded her. “You have to tell me what you want to do with your life. I’ll see you when we’re free.”

“When we’re free,” she echoed the pledge of the resistance. He bowed his head and moved away to wake his companion. Feeling suddenly useless, Nerys went to check the status of the supplies to bring back to camp. But she couldn’t stop glancing over at the cleric and wondering about fate. She knew she would see him again.


End file.
